The Last Garden in England

by Julia Kelly

  “Shall we dance?” he asked, gesturing to the floor.

  She realized then that he wasn’t wearing his sling. “It’s gone!”

  “The doctor changed his mind about surgery. He told me I could remove it just this morning. I’ve been warned every way from Sunday that I can’t do much with it, but he didn’t disapprove of the idea of me leading a beautiful woman around on the dance floor, so long as the song is slow.”

  “Then we should dance to celebrate,” she said, taking his hand.

  They pushed into the crowd of RAF men, army officers, WAAFs, land girls, nurses, and doctors. When they found a patch of dance floor, Graeme slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. “Here we go,” he said.

  “Where did you find orchids?” she asked.

  “I have my methods,” he said, a twinkle in his eye. When she laughed, he added, “Highbury House isn’t the only big house in the area. I happen across Lord Walford of Braembreidge Manor walking his dogs from time to time. His house was requisitioned for a school, but he refused to leave because he has a prizewinning collection of orchids. When I explained the situation, he gave me a few.”

  “He gave you his prizewinning orchids?” she asked.

  He grinned down at her. “I told him that they would be worn by the most beautiful woman in the world tonight. Lord Walford is a bit of an old romantic underneath it all.”

  He pulled her closer to him, and it seemed the most natural thing to rest her head lightly against his shoulder.

  “This isn’t hurting you, is it?” she asked, glancing up at him.

  “Not even the littlest bit,” he said.

  “Good,” she murmured into the warm wool of his jacket.

  When the song ended, she reluctantly began to step away, aware of the couples breaking apart all around her. But although he dropped her hand and let his arm slide from around her waist, he twined his fingers in hers. “Do you fancy a walk in the gardens?” he asked.

  She cast a glance around. “Are we supposed to?”

  “I don’t think Mrs. Symonds will mind,” he said, jerking his chin to where the mistress of the house was laughingly protesting being led out by a senior officer.

  “I’ve never seen her look that happy before,” said Beth in awe.

  “I don’t think she laughs often. It’s a shame.” He tugged her hand. “Let’s go.”

  She let him pull her toward the lime walk. New green leaves fanned out above them in the soft light of the early evening.

  “Have you thought of the end of the war?” he asked her as he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm.

  “Haven’t we all?”

  “I mean, have you thought about what you’ll do? Or where you’ll go?” he asked.

  She paused. “I thought that maybe I could ask Mr. and Mrs. Penworthy if they could afford to have me stay on. If they need me, that is.” She paused. “I can’t go back to Dorking.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t have a home there any longer. My aunt made it clear that she’d done her duty by me. I’m on my own.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not. When she took me in, I didn’t have anyone in the world, and I would have likely ended up in an orphanage otherwise. But she made it clear from the beginning that she didn’t want me.”

  He shook his head. “How could anyone not want you?”

  She didn’t demure at the compliment. She liked hearing Graeme say these things. Colin had written sweet things to her, too, but she couldn’t help feeling it had been a pantomime of a happy couple.

  “What would you want to do if you could do anything with your life?” Graeme asked.

  “I would want to be around people who care about me,” she said automatically. “I might stay in Highbury. I know the people at the neighboring farms. Shopkeepers recognize me when I go into the village. The librarian holds books for me just because she thinks that I might enjoy them, and Stella always has a pot of water on for tea when I come to make my weekly delivery. Even Mrs. Symonds is kind to me. I’ve never had that before.”

  “You’re not dreaming of a life in London?” he asked.

  She shrugged as they turned onto the path at the top of the sculpture garden. “What is there for me in London?”

  “I thought all women wanted fashion and theater and restaurants and glamour,” he said with a laugh.

  She paused, resting a hand on his arm to stop him, the heady scent of the first lavender blooms drifting over. “If I wanted those things, there would be nothing wrong with that, but I don’t. I want other things.”

  “There are so many things I want to ask you. A thousand questions. I don’t want to spend one day with you, but a thousand days.” He grew serious now. “I wonder, Beth, if I could ever hope that you would spend those days with me by your side.”

  Her grip tightened. “Graeme, what are you asking me?”

  She watched as he lowered himself to one knee, grasping her hand as he went.

  “I don’t know when this war will end, but I do know that when it does, I want to come home to you.” He swallowed then and asked, “Elizabeth Pedley, would you do me the greatest honor and say you’ll be my wife?”

  “Graeme, we hardly know each other,” she breathed.

  “If this war has taught me anything it’s that life is too short to wait when you know what you want,” he said.

  “You’re certain?” she asked.

  “I thought I was going to be the one asking the questions.”

  “Be serious. This is marriage we’re talking about. Forever.”

  He lowered his forehead to the hand he held clasped in his hands. “You’re right. I just… Those days when I see you out in the fields or in the garden have been the happiest of my life. You’re a beacon in the night sky, Beth. Please be mine.”

  There were so many reasons to say no. She’d known him for only a few short months. She hadn’t met his family. She had to sort out the mess with Colin. And yet, when she stared down at the man whose eyes were fixed on hers, none of that mattered. He was the one she wanted.

  “Yes,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “Yes?” he asked.

  She laughed. “Yes!”

  He surged up, catching her around the middle with his good arm and pulling her into a kiss. A proper kiss. Their first. She sank against him as he cradled the back of her head in his hand, his lips moving slowly over hers. She clung to the lapels of his jacket, desperate not to let this moment go.

  When finally he broke away breathless, he stroked a thumb along the line of her jaw. “I was so certain you were going to say no. But since you didn’t…” He pulled out a slim package from the inside pocket of his uniform jacket. “I will get you a ring, but until then, perhaps you’ll accept this.”

  She pulled the twine and brown paper from the package. It was a long, slim metal case with “Derwent” painted on the top. “You bought me pencils?”

  “For your drawings.”

  She threw her arms around him and kissed him. “You wonderful man!” She laughed and kissed him again. “Why would you ever think I would say no?”

  He gently tapped the pad of his thumb against her lips. “Because I’ve never been the luckiest man.”

  “That can’t be true,” she said softly.

  “I was never academic. I never had a head for business. I joined the army because I didn’t know what to do with myself, but I was good at soldiering. I liked leading my men, knowing that what I was doing mattered. But then I was shot.”

  “And now you’re better,” she said.

  He kissed her again but didn’t respond, and understanding dawned in her.

  “You’re leaving Highbury?”

  “The Pioneer Corps needs officers.”

  “But we just got engaged—”

  “I have to go where the army sends me, Beth. I’ll write to you, and I’ll take every bit of my leave to come back to Highbury,” he said.

  It was Colin all over
again, only this time Graeme had asked her face-to-face and now they were engaged.

  “What if you’re sent back to fight again?” she asked, gripping his hand.

  He shook his head, testing his shoulder slightly and wincing. “I still have a ways to go before they’ll let me fight.”

  “You said you were better. We shouldn’t have danced,” she said.

  He smoothed a hand down her hair. “It was worth it. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy. I promise. And until we can live together properly, I’ll make sure you’re taken care of. My parents would love it if you would live in Colchester with them.”

  “I can’t. I’m a land girl here,” she said.

  “Not now. After the war,” he said.

  “But you’ll be done with the army then,” she said.

  He offered her a rueful smile. “It’s all I’ve ever been good at.”

  “And what will I do then?” she asked. “Where will we live?”

  “If I’m stationed at a permanent base, we can live there together.”

  “If,” she said.

  “My mother always wanted a daughter.”

  Does your mother even know about me? Does your father?

  “Now, shall we go back and share our happy news?” he asked, offering her his arm.

  She stared at him, reservations creeping in. To Graeme, everything was all settled. Yet his proposal had thrown her life into chaos. She needed to write to Colin. She needed to explain what had happened while he’d been away fighting. Her stomach squeezed tight and sour. She dreaded him opening her letter, thinking that it would be filled with little stories about Highbury and cartoons of the people around her and instead finding that she’d chosen another man.

  I don’t love you, Colin.

  She glanced at Graeme from under her lashes. Did she love him? Did he love her? Men were supposed to talk about love when asking a woman to marry them, weren’t they? So why had he never mentioned it?

  And yet now that she was engaged to Graeme, the thought of not becoming his wife was inconceivable.

  She took a deep breath. They would figure everything out, one thing at a time.

  • DIANA •

  A drink for the hostess of this fine party?”

  Diana smiled at Father Devlin as she accepted a glass of white wine from Nurse Holt. “You have the nursing staff carrying your drinks now, Father Devlin?”

  “The crutches make it rather difficult to be self-sufficient, I’m afraid. Nurse Holt was kind enough to humor me when I told her that the wine was for you,” said Father Devlin.

  “Thank you,” Diana said to the younger woman, who dipped her head and scurried away. She slanted a look at the chaplain. “The nurses are all afraid of me, you know.”

  “How could they be when you’re always so warm?” he asked.

  She snorted, and then immediately covered her mouth. “Excuse me. That was hardly ladylike.”

  “It’s good to see you laugh,” he said.

  “I laugh.”

  “Not enough.”

  “Is that the advice of a spiritual adviser?” she asked.

  “That is the advice of a man who hopes you consider him a friend, otherwise he’s sure that he’s been a terrible nuisance since he arrived at Highbury House,” said Father Devlin.

  “No, you’re not a nuisance,” she said, surveying the party. “It is good to see a bit of fun in the house. This is what Murray wanted.”

  “You’ve brought joy to a great many people tonight, and raised a good deal of money by the looks of it,” said Father Devlin.

  The notion was all rather… satisfying. When she and Murray had moved into Highbury House, it had been run by a skeleton staff for far too long. Murray had started on the renovation with enthusiasm, but his practice in London had pulled his attention away, and it had become Diana’s responsibility. Diana’s home. She’d worked hard to return it to what it had been when the Melcourts lived there: a place where people gathered. A place for parties and flirtations and joy and friendship. Even though the dance floor was filled with injured men and women in uniform, it felt as though it might be that sort of place again.

  She tilted her glass in the direction of the dance floor. “It’s all worth it to see Matron discuss the Voluntary Aid Detachment with that American Air Force major. He’s been trying to edge her out onto the dance floor for a half hour now.”

  Father Devlin tipped his head to study the pair. “They would cut a rather fine figure, don’t you think?”

  “Mmm,” she hummed in agreement. “Now, if Cynthia comes out of her office and dances this evening, I’ll never say another ill word against her again.”

  A couple of nurses standing nearby guffawed.

  “You’d better hope that doesn’t make its way back to her before the end of the evening,” said Father Devlin.

  “She’s still angry I overruled her. Do you know, I’ve never been a great lover of parties and gatherings?” When the chaplain raised his brows, she continued, “Oh, if you’re forced to do it for long enough, you learn how to dance and talk and laugh. That is being a debutante. But it doesn’t come naturally to me.

  “One of the reasons I fell in love with Murray was because he was everything I wasn’t. If I was happy watching people from my corner of the room, he was right in the center making everyone laugh. I was more interested in staying in the safety of the music room.”

  “How did you meet?”

  “At a dance, actually. He’d been harangued into asking me by some relative who knew my mother, and he was so gallant about it. We danced, and then he talked with me for the rest of the evening about music. I later learned that the poor man had a tin ear and couldn’t carry a tune at all, but he saw that I liked talking about it. Three months later, we were engaged, and I found I didn’t mind the dances and suppers nearly as much. Not if he was with me.”

  “You loved him very much,” said Father Devlin.

  She squared her shoulders even as grief pressed down on her. “I did. He gave me a different world.”

  The old Diana had lived under her parents’ roof, her mother making well-meaning decisions for her. Marriage had been freedom from that.

  “Have you given any more thought to what the next stage of your life looks like?” Father Devlin asked.

  She cradled her glass into her chest, the cool of the condensation soothing her. “Perhaps after the war when there are no more battles to fight.”

  A tall man with jet-black hair approached the pair.

  “I hope you don’t mind me being so forward,” he said to Diana. “But I understand that you are the hostess.”

  Diana raised her brows, but before she could say anything, Father Devlin helpfully piped up, “She is.”

  The man placed a hand to his chest and gave a neat little half bow. “I’m Wing Commander Edmund Grayson, and I wanted to thank you personally for tonight. There aren’t many opportunities for my men to let off a little steam, and this has given them something to look forward to.”

  “Anything for the Royal Air Force,” she said, knowing she sounded a little flip, but not caring.

  Wing Commander Grayson paused and then said, “I also wondered if you might care to dance.”

  She lifted her glass. “I’m afraid my hands are occupied.”

  Father Devlin shuffled his crutches so he could pluck the glass from her. “Enjoy your dance, Mrs. Symonds.”

  She nearly objected, but then stopped herself. What harm was there in one dance? She took Wing Commander Grayson’s extended hand and let him lead her onto the floor.

  “It’s been a very long time since I’ve danced. I hope you won’t find me too clumsy,” he said.

  She laughed. “I can promise you that however long, it’s been longer for me.”

  “That can’t be the case. A beautiful woman like you must dance all the time,” he said.

  Was he flirting with her? “The last time I danced, I had come up to London to meet my husband on leave. We we
nt to the Dorchester.”

  “You’ll have to ask him to take you again,” he said.

  “My husband won’t be coming back from the war.”

  Wing Commander Grayson’s arms stiffened around her, but he didn’t stop dancing. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Mrs. Symonds. I can’t imagine what I would do without my wife, Flora, and I never want to think about what it would do to her if something happened to me.”

  Then why are you fighting? She wanted to scream the question, but she knew the answer just as well as he did. Still, that didn’t make being left behind any less brutal.

  “When did your husband die?” Wing Commander Grayson asked her.

  “August of 1941,” she said.

  “I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.”

  “It’s been a long time,” she said, even though it didn’t feel that way most days. “He volunteered to serve. He didn’t wait for conscription. I…”

  “Didn’t want him to?” Wing Commander Grayson offered.

  “No.”

  “Sometimes a man feels a responsibility to his country that is too great to ignore.”

  “He said something to that effect once. I told him that his responsibilities were to our son. To me. I don’t think I’ve ever really forgiven him.” She looked up at the officer. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

  “Sometimes it’s easier to talk to a stranger,” he said.

  She glanced at Father Devlin over the officer’s shoulder, certain her newfound candor was the result of his meddling. She’d spent so much time closing doors behind her, making sure no one had a key. Yet the chaplain seemed determined to pick open each of those locks and let the sunlight stream in again.

  “Perhaps you’re right,” she said.

  They danced in silence until Wing Commander Grayson spun her a quarter turn so that she could see Mrs. Dibble at the end of the veranda, waving wildly at her. “I think someone might be trying to catch your attention.”

  “What on earth has come over her?” she asked, brow furrowed. But when she saw who was standing next to the housekeeper, her heart sank.

  “What’s wrong?” Wing Commander Grayson asked.

  “That’s Mr. Jeffries, the postmaster. He only comes out after hours with urgent news.”